


Bowls

by aykayem



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Marauders' Era, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-14
Updated: 2011-04-14
Packaged: 2017-10-18 01:53:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/183672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aykayem/pseuds/aykayem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus allows himself a moment of observation. [giftfic]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bowls

Remus set the bowl down in front of Severus without a word. Though his eyes were locked on the other young man - barely out of school, it was sheer convenience and necessity that saw them together in the ratty house - Severus avoided his gaze pointedly, focused completely on the plate before him. Birdlike, he picked at his meal awkwardly, hair pushed forward inadvertently to hide his expression.

“Eat,” Remus ordered, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. He refused to sit, to join Severus there at the table despite the fact that Severus’ gaze was boring into his ankles. He could practically taste the disdain hanging thick in the room.

After all, they weren’t exactly friends.

Severus raised a glower up at Remus after a moment, stuffing an appropriately large spoonful into his mouth. Remus matched the look, hands resting on the table pointedly, as if he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He never had, never would - especially not from Severus, who remained nothing more than an awkward teenager in robes too big for his body.

The far end of the table - furthest away from the pair of them - held three bottles, all uniform and filled perfectly to an unseen line; Severus never sought anything less than perfection, and it was that that saw Remus into a perpetual state of amusement. School had seen the Slytherin into some bizarre stickler for perfection - perhaps because he had nothing else but his classes - and Remus into an innocent bystander. He hadn’t fully appreciated James’ penchant for practical jokes, nor Sirius’ tendency to go along with whatever James decided; he hadn’t found much commonality with Peter either, leaving him with only a vague attachment to the man who kept him sane every month.

Remus didn’t know when he’d sat down. He didn’t know when he’d begun watching Severus as the too-thin man finally took his fill of the meal, exhausted from the evening before. He didn’t know when he’d shoved his own exhaustion from mind, instead taking care to watch for any signs that Severus was anything less than all right. He knew he was staring, knew he was paying too much attention to the minor details, but it was his fault Severus was there at all, so close to danger.

 _A devil I know_ , Severus had reassured him wryly the night before. A devil of a lycanthrope, of fangs and fur that sprouted unnaturally from now until the end of time. Yet Remus still felt a sense of unease in the pit of his stomach, a constant reminder that he needed to watch himself around this man. Perhaps for more than one reason, he wondered, mentally frowning at himself - his internal image of himself was already marred with frown lines, deep wrinkles set into his forehead. Infected so young, Remus knew he would have to be insane to not have become jaded by that fact.

His fingers idly moved to one of the bottles, rotating it on its axis in a small circle; his eyes never left Severus, he made sure of that. It was perhaps a bit unsettling, the way Remus continued to stare almost unblinkingly. The other man had noticed, had pushed slightly stringy hair out of his face to double-check, and had turned his attention back to the bowl in front of him. Remus’ was untouched, spoon sticking out at its awkward angle.

“Did you want something?”

Remus blinked slowly, eyes coming back into focus on Severus’ disjointed expression; it was almost a sneer, though with a hint of embarrassment lingering beneath it. Perhaps the sneer was to hide the embarrassment. “No,” he admitted. His eyes, quietly observing, still didn’t leave Severus.

“Then why are you staring at me?” He demanded, voice a low hiss as expelled through gritted teeth. Remus’ eyes wandered momentarily, searching the table between them for some logical reasoning; finally, he shrugged.

Severus offered nothing more, merely shoved the bowl - now empty - away from himself. It tipped with the force, clattering upside-down to the table, and both sets of eyes trained on it. When Severus rose from his seat had escaped Remus; when Remus rose had even escaped him.

“Don’t-” Severus began, starting around the table. Remus caught him mid-step and mid-word, groping for his wrist to keep him there and close. No longer was there a table between them, two bowls and two spoons, and three potions. Now there was nothing between them; nothing but six inches of empty air waiting for displacement.

“Don’t what, Severus?”

“Don’t fuck with me, Lupin,” Severus tried for a harsh tone, voice wavering too much for it to have any real effect. “I know what your lot is good for - making fun of poor Snivellus,” he snapped, doing a rather good imitation of James’ voice, “and tormenting him until he snaps.”

Remus’ gaze was focused and clear as he tugged at Severus’ wrist, drawing and keeping him closer; his knuckles were white from the effort of not crushing each minute bone beneath his grip. “Let James attest to that - I know he’ll take any and all credit for it. But don’t put words in my mouth.”

Severus’ lip curled into a distasteful sneer, shaking his wrist once in a weak attempt to dislodge Remus’ grip. The motion was cut short, cropped by a soft pressing of an unknown mouth against his own, a strange and overwhelming sense of being sucked into something he was altogether unsure of. Remus’ mouth was gentle against his, the grip on his wrist now fading, and yet Severus didn’t pull away. Didn’t move except to draw his hand away, and snake it through the lycanthrope’s hair.


End file.
